You blinked. Once. Twice.

your brain short-circuited for a second—mid-sentence, mid-step, mid-breath. Everything just stopped. The city around you kept moving: lights flashing, cars honking, people brushing past.

But you? Frozen.

The city buzzed around you—horns honking, chatter in the distance, neon lights painting the pavement in shifting colors—but it all faded into static behind the echo of what just happened.

That bastard.

Ging stood there smug, hands lazily stuffed into his coat pockets like he hadn’t just crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

His eyes sparkled with that same infuriating amusement he always wore when he thought he’d won something.

“Hm? Speechless?” he teased again, head tilting as he leaned in just a little more, like he was trying to read your face the way he used to read maps—quickly, and for the shortest route to escape trouble.

You didn’t say a word.

Not because you didn’t have anything to say—you had plenty—but because your brain was still trying to catch up to your heart, which had kicked into overdrive the second his lips touched yours.

“…Still nothing?” he added with a chuckle, walking ahead now, not bothering to wait for a reaction. “Might have to do that more often.”

“Don’t look so scandalized,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement. “You’ve been nagging me since we left the Association. I was running out of options.”

He tossed a glance back over his shoulder, and the grin he gave you was so unapologetic, so Ging—it made your stomach twist and burn all at once.

The worst part? He knew it worked.